


Memories: A Legend of Zelda BoTW Fanfiction

by DarvianDirk



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Oneshot, Post-Ganon's defeat, References to loneliness, breath of the wild - Freeform, kinda sad, post-BOTW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 21:22:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14679756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarvianDirk/pseuds/DarvianDirk
Summary: Ganon is dead, and Zelda is back, but Link has one more thing to do before he can consider his duty done.





	Memories: A Legend of Zelda BoTW Fanfiction

The room was cool and dark, tinted with flashes of soft blue light and speckles of brilliant orange.  Solid stone clicked under his boots, echoing over the place that had been his home for 100 years.

It was just like he remembered it.

When he'd awoken what seemed like years ago, he'd been confused.  His blurry vision had searched these walls for any sign of the voice that had plagued his feverish dreams for all that time.  His brain had strained to find anything in its depths but that voice, begging for him to open his eyes.

Now, he ran a hand along the edge of the pool that had been his home, staring into the pedestal that had held the slate now located at his hip.

He couldn't remember his home, his real home.  Nor his family, if he'd even had one.  This was the place that had effectively raised him, as far as he was concerned.

She'd been concerned when he'd first suggested coming here, even moreso when he revealed his plans to come alone, without even a guard to stay by his side.  No matter how many times he'd told her how he could take care of himself just fine, she wasn't convinced.  Her eyes had always drifted down to the scars that dotted his back and arms; remnents of the burns and slashes that had nearly ended his life more times than he could count.

" _L_ _ink...  I can't lose you again."_

_He was silent as usual, looking up from sharpening his legendary blade.  Her eyes were soft, overflowing with worry and fear._

_"Please be careful."_

_His eyes promised that he would be, as he embraced her._

He was a man who never broke a promise.  Slowly, he walked along the halls, past the chests that had held his ragged clothes, and out of the shrine.  The light was fading from the sky, the sun setting.  Some deep instinctial fear gripped him.  The Stalfos came out when it was dark.

He shook it off.  He wouldn't be here long.

He followed the path down the hill, shoes crunching on old cobblestone and dust.  A firepit lay not far from here, empty and cold.  He sat by it, staring into the cold ashes.

It felt wrong to be here alone.  It felt...empty, this plateua did now.  Now that he knew that he'd never be unpleseantly surprised by the familiar chuckle of the strange old man who'd been like a father to him.

He treasured those few memories now.  Relished them like some would relish a Heroic Pursuit.  They were what he had held to all those times when the nights had been dark and wet, when he'd lay injured in a stable, nursing fresh wounds from a Lizalfos or a Lynel.

It hurt him more than any words could express to know that he'd never get to make more of them.

He rose, turning to leave.  For a moment, it was almost as if he could feel the warmth of the fire, smell the scent of a baking apple or two...

He sighed, continuing down the hill.  The Temple of  Time rose above him, expansive and grand, despite its dilapidation.  The lifeless bodies of a few guardian scouts clung still to the walls.  He walked past them quickly, into the building's remains, avoiding their cold dead eyes.

A few pots were scattered in the enterance, cold clay pieces scattered from the ones he'd used as weapons when he'd come here to sleep and was circled by bokoblins.  He could almost laugh now, at the way he'd been horrified by their drooling mouths and buggy eyes.  He'd seen so much worse on his travels.

The goddess statues rose above him, almost glowing in the evening light.  He nodded to them, as if they were old friends.  They might as well have been.  How many nights had he spent searching them for answers?

Well...  It was getting late.  He'd better do what he came here for.

The Old Man's cabin lay just past the Temple, small and ragged compared to the magesty that dominated the hillside.  Link approached it, his knees weak. 

Some part of him, irrational and bleeding, hoped he'd find the old man there, waiting by the campfire, or writing in his diary.  Some little voice told him that it was all a test, and now that Ganon was gone for good, the Old Man would be back to clap him on the shoulder and tell him that he was proud.

But no, the cabin was as empty as Link felt, aside from the stone that rested at the foot of the old man's bed.  Link has spent hours dragging it up the hill and into the cabin.

_In Memory of King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule; Father, King, and Friend._

It felt a little corny now.  No words could really sum up the legacy that the old man had left.  No words that Link could think of at least.  He'd never been much of a speaker.  Link prefered to show how he felt through action.

Carefully, softly, Link laid a few flowers at the base of the stone, bundled together with twine.  Silent Princesses.  The old man had told Link about how much he adored them, once, when they were hunting together.  How he wished to see one more before he died.

Link figured that this was the next best thing.  He looked at the stone, his vision blurring with hot, fat tears.

He spoke, voice cracking and quaking from either lack of use, or emotion.

"Goodbye."


End file.
